


The Spaces Between (Seoul and Beijing)

by textbook



Series: I love your orange laughter, and your sunshine smile [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Homophobia, M/M, OT12 - Freeform, Slow Build, bandfic, predebut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbook/pseuds/textbook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I heard you’re gay,” Jongdae said as a greeting, sliding in next to Lu Han. “What’s it like?”</p><p>or</p><p>A Chen/Luhan fic where Luhan is the only openly gay member of EXO and Chen goes to him for advice because he realizes he's attracted to Kris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spaces Between (Seoul and Beijing)

**I**

Like any dead aunt’s old closet, the Metaphorical Closet was dusty, cramped and filled with dated dresses, possibly mouldy boxes with questionable content, and socks that smelled of mothballs. One would have to hug their knees and curl their toes just to make sure that they fit, and it was only a matter of time before any sane individual would give in to the temptation of fresh air and unlimited space to move, throw open the doors and proudly declare that they were, indeed, gay.

Lu Han’s moment came shortly after he had entered university. Enlightened by the LGBTQ movement that was happening around the world, he saw no reason to stay in the Metaphorical Closet any longer. If there were individuals who were against his desire to kiss another boy, then he would be against their friendship.

What he didn’t expect was his parents to be opposed to it. In retrospect, he should’ve done a litmus test, perhaps watch an episode of Glee in the living room to see how they would react to Kurt and Blaine, but of course one only realises such things when it is far too late. 

Five hours after his big reveal, Lu Han found himself on the doorstep of the house he had lived in for the past seventeen years, a backpack in his hands and his heart ripped to shreds, its pieces sinking to the bottom of his stomach, making him feel completely sick.

Needless to say, he threw up on his mother’s flowerpots, in part disgusted by everything his parents had said against him and _people like him_ , but mostly out of sheer disbelief and disappointment.

His parents had kicked him out of the house because he was _gay_.

 

Luckily for Lu Han, his best friend offered him a sofa to sleep on in his tiny student apartment. He spent the next two weeks in an almost-permanent horizontal position on said sofa, watching TVXQ videos with his laptop on his tummy.

“You look like the epitome of wasted youth,” Junhui told him, resting his chin on the back of the sofa. “You’re growing a beard and frying your balls. Did you join a cult?”

“Go to hell,” Lu Han murmured under his breath, not bothering to look up from _All About TVXQ_. Yunho’s face was far more attractive than Junhui’s could ever dream of being.

“You know, you could always go to South Korea and see him,” Junhui said casually. “Maybe he might even notice you and fall in love with you, and you guys can get married and adopt five kids and live in Paris.”

Lu Han paused the video. “I don’t want to marry Yunho hyung,” he shot his best friend a look. “He deserves someone better than me, obviously.”

Junhui gasped out of mock shock. “Wow, Lu Han, I never knew you’d be so selfless,” he said, then dodged the pillow Lu Han had flung before picking it back up and pressing it onto Lu Han’s chest.

“Anyway, what I was saying is: maybe you should apply for a semester exchange to Korea and let this whole thing blow over. Your parents will come around, don’t worry. You’re their only child.”

 

Six months later, Lu Han found himself dragging his suitcase out of Incheon International Airport, stepping on Korean soil and inhaling Korean air. A tiny voice at the back of his head told him that perhaps, Yunho hyung had stood on the exact spot he was on. It wasn’t impossible – TVXQ travelled so frequently they had probably stepped on every square inch of the airport.

That thought had him breaking out into a grin. He felt as though every single cell in his body was happy, singing tunes of euphoria. He’s in South Korea, and had one-upped Junhui’s initial suggestion for a semester exchange. His superior grades in his Korean Language and Culture modules had earned him a scholarship for a year abroad in Yonsei University. It was exhilarating, being in a new country not just for a month or two, but an entire year.

Lu Han could barely feel the weight of his suitcase and the backpack on his back as he skips over to the bus that would bring him to Yonsei. He couldn’t wait to start.

 

The days pass in a blur of classes, people and soju. Lu Han was quick to make friends with everyone, and found it almost too easy to tell them _Hi, I’m Lu Han. I’m from Beijing, I like DBSK and Man U and I’m gay._ It gave him an unexpected reputation, as well as supporters, lovers, and even curious bedmates, but Lu Han found that he didn’t mind – he was happy with this life, happy out of the closet. He was free.

But of course, every bout of high would undoubtedly come crashing down. Lu Han’s crashes came in the form of phone calls home, where he would find himself on the receiving end of the dial tone, his parents having had put down the phone the split second after he had said _hi_.

Even though his parents were insistent on ignoring him, Lu Han continued calling twice a week, waiting to hear either his mother’s or father’s voice at the other end. He was still their son, and they were still his parents. Despite everything, he still loved them, and more than anything else, he wanted them to love him too.

 

Lu Han is strong, but even the strongest people are allowed moments where they are weak, desperate to simply escape from whatever bullshit life has thrown at them.

His moment came one sweltering summer afternoon in Myeongdong, when a man in a Burberry button-down and black ankle boots approached him and handed him a card.

_S.M. Entertainment._

It’s everything even his wildest dreams wouldn’t have expected. It’s everything Lu Han never knew he had wanted.

 

Lu Han remembered standing in front of two men and a woman, introducing himself and singing _Bolero_. They had asked him to dance freestyle to a mix of songs, before nodding at one another and telling him that he was definitely S.M. trainee material, and that they would be in touch.

It’s been a little more than six months since the audition, five months since he told his parents he had wanted to be an idol, and his father had told him that he was no longer their son. Now that Lu Han knew he had the potential to be idol material, he expanded his horizons instead, gathering the courage to apply for an audition with JYP Entertainment as well. He uploaded a picture of himself onto their website, filled up the form and wrote a tiny bit about himself.

_Hi, I’m Lu Han. I’m from Beijing. I like the Wonder Girls and I like to sing and dance._

The clock was ticking. He now only had three months left in Seoul before he had to pack up and return to Beijing.

 

Just four days before his visa was due to expire, S.M. replied and asked him to come over and start training the next morning.

Never had Lu Han felt so much relief. He sagged in his chair, boneless, feeling all the weight he hadn’t realised he had been carrying for the past nine months seeping out of his pores. He let out a little laugh. It felt good, so he let out another, then another, each one progressively louder than the last.

He was going to be an S.M. trainee. He was going to have a new life.

**II**

The first time Lu Han met Minseok was during one of his vocal lessons. Minseok had walked in to deliver a message to the vocal coach, who then excused herself to settle whatever urgent business that message had requested.

“You new here?” Minseok asked when they were alone.

Lu Han surveyed him for a second. He looked a little younger than Lu Han was, and Korean, so he replied without honorifics, “Yeah, name’s Lu Han. What’s yours?”

Minseok’s eyes narrowed a little. “Kim Minseok,” he replied. “How old are you?”

“I just turned twenty last month,” Lu Han said.

“You’re joking,” Minseok grinned. “I’m twenty too.”

Lu Han couldn’t believe him. He had a baby face, all round and tender and adorable, with fair, unblemished skin that could rival a newborn’s. “1990?” He asked.

“Yeah,” he held out a hand, and Lu Han took it. “Damn, you don’t look it. I thought you were eighteen, at most.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lu Han said, laughing. “I thought you were eighteen too. You look like a _baozi_.”

Minseok’s grin fell a little. “What’s a baozi?” He asked, looking skeptical.

“It’s something cool,” Lu Han told him, still grinning.

 

Lu Han became Minseok’s roommate the next week, moving in his two suitcases and becoming the eleventh boy in the already cramped apartment. They shared the room with two other boys, a pair of perpetually sleepy kids called Jongin and Sehun who were both four years younger. Sehun took a liking to him almost immediately, following him around like a little duckling, much to Lu Han’s amusement. It was almost too easy to take care of Sehun – he was always in his own world and waiting for someone to reel him in.

“Sehun-ah, can you help me bleach my hair,” Lu Han poked him in the ribs whilst he was playing _Diablo_ on the computer. There’s a little whine of protest, but Lu Han was insistent, poking harder and depositing the box of bleach onto Sehun’s lap.

“O-okay,” he typed quickly onto the game, then hopped out of his seat, staring at the bleach. “It’s so yellow, hyung.” His nose is scrunched up in distaste. “You’ll look strange.”

“Which is why I’m trying it now, and not later when we’ve debuted,” Lu Han replied, pulling him into the bathroom.

“We’ll have stylists for these sorts of things though,” Sehun passed the box over, his nose still scrunched up. “They’ll decide what colour our hair will be and all that.”

Yifan walked in then, the corners of his lips turned down into a frown when he sees that the bathroom is packed. “I need to pee,” he said a little sadly.

“No one’s stopping you,” Lu Han pointed out. He poured the contents of the box onto the countertop and passed Sehun a pair of gloves, then mixed the bleach. There’s the telltale sound of Yifan peeing next to him, and it takes most of Lu Han’s self control from turning to check out Yifan’s dick. He’s always thought that Yifan would be as hung as a horse, but it would of course be incredibly inappropriate to simply walk up to him and ask.

He settled for peeking out the corner of his eye instead, and noticed that Yifan’s dick was, indeed, as large as Lu Han had thought it would be.

 

Time passed in a blur of dance practices and voice lessons. Lu Han doesn’t realise it’s autumn until boxes start piling next to the television set – the other boys’ winter clothes sent to them by their parents. He had spent far too much time in enclosed spaces – the dance studio, the recording studio – that he hardly thought of much else.

“Thought I could find you out here,” Minseok said in greeting as he slid the glass door open. “Can I join you in exchange for this?” He waved a can of beer.

Lu Han chuckled, then shuffled to make space for Minseok on the tiny balcony, squishing himself next to their hanging laundry. “Sure, why not?” He accepted the beer and took a sip.

“You’re kind of pensive these days,” Minseok began, opening his can as well.

Lu Han mulled it over in his head and took another sip. It’s been a little more than half a year since he’s joined S.M., and he was starting to question himself. What exactly was he here for? He wasn’t sure.

He felt like he’d lost himself somewhere within S.M.’s countless studios and endless corridors.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Minseok asked softly, leaning his head on his knees so he could look at Lu Han. He had always been too kind, Lu Han thought, eager to take on others’ burdens and yet, selfish with his own.

“I feel like I’m losing myself,” Lu Han said softly. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but Minseok always did make him feel safe, his presence pulling Lu Han into his comfort zone.

“They’re preparing us for what’s to come,” Minseok replied after a while, worrying the rim of his can between his lips. “You lose yourself, make way for someone new, someone perfect and beautiful.”

“An idol,” Lu Han whispered.

Minseok turned to look at him. “You learn really quickly. I took more than a year to realise that,” he smiled, all heavy and melancholy and nostalgic. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder why I want this so much.”

“And then you think of how much effort you’ve already put in, how much you’ve sacrificed, and quitting becomes such a stupid thought.”

There was a chuckle from them both. They sipped their beers in silence for a while, letting the reality of their situation sink deep into their bones and settle down in the corners of their minds.

 

The next time Lu Han found himself in the balcony sipping beer with Minseok, he slid a little closer and nudged his head on the other boy’s shoulder.

“I’m gay,” he whispered, closing his eyes and bracing himself for something – a shove, perhaps, though in all honesty, he was sure that Minseok wouldn’t be anything but supportive.

“I’m straight,” Minseok replied, barely a second later. He doesn’t make a move to rid of Lu Han, but rather, snaked an arm around Lu Han’s waist to pull him a little closer.

Lu Han let out a chuckle. The weight he didn’t realise he had been carrying around on his shoulders had disappeared. He felt light, happier than he’d been for a while, really, and shuffled a little closer to Minseok.

“You know, your actions are going against your words,” he told Minseok despite not wanting the other boy to pull away.

“I don’t want to fuck you, but I love you anyway.” Minseok gave him a look, all warm eyes and comforting smiles. “And since I love you, you get a hug.” He punctuated his words with a squeeze.

It’s almost five degrees out and they’re decked in thin sweaters and sweatpants, but Minseok is warm and Lu Han’s never felt more comfortable before.

 

Winter kept them indoors, and Lu Han saw even less of the outside world, his days spent holed up in the training rooms in the S.M. building and the tiny apartment they all share. He watched the first snowfall of the year from behind thick glass, as the other boys make a ruckus setting up the old Christmas tree in their already crowded living room. Their manager had asked Lu Han if he had wanted to return home for Christmas or the Lunar New Year, but Lu Han wasn’t ready – all his calls were still rejected by his parents, his letters left unanswered. In a fit of desperation, he had called Junhui and asked him to check on his parents, just to see if they were alright.

They were. They’d even spent the afternoon with Junhui, sipping coffee and swapping stories. Not once did his parents mention him.

It was as though, to them, he no longer existed.

 

“Have a seat, Lu Han,” Lee Sooman gave him a bright smile, gesturing to the sofa. “I’ll just finish signing this, and I’ll be right with you.”

Lu Han did, feeling very nervous. One of their managers had pulled him out of the practice rooms, telling him that the president had wanted to speak with him. They didn’t say what for, and Lu Han had no clue either. He looked around, trying to find something to do other than twiddle his thumbs, and stared instead at a giant poster of TVXQ during their _Mirotic_ days. The pang in his chest returned then. The lawsuit didn’t just break them, it broke him too.

 _Nothing lasts forever_ , a little voice in his head reminded him.

“Lu Han,” Lee Sooman’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He was sitting in the armchair next to him, a kind smile on his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Are you having problems with your family?”

“No,” Lu Han blurted, a knee-jerk reaction to any questions regarding his family. His mouth ran on autopilot then, the excuse he’d crafted for any similar questions tumbling easily past his lips. “I just feel that going home would be using up time that should be used for practicing instead.”

Lee Sooman’s features softened, and that was when Lu Han realised that unlike Sehun and the other trainees and their managers, he wasn’t buying it.

“I don’t want to force you to tell me, Lu Han, but I just want you to know that you have a friend in me. Whatever problems you’re having, I may not be able to solve entirely, but I promise you that I will try my best to help,” he paused. “If only you would let me.”

 

All it takes is a little courage and a lot of understanding, Lu Han reminded himself, as he tugged his suitcase into the airport. Just like Minseok had done so many months before, Lee Sooman lulled Lu Han into his comfort zone, making him feel that it was just _right_ to tell him the whole story. And just like Minseok, the president was supportive, and had urged Lu Han to patch things with his parents.

“You will need your parents’ support for everything that’s going to happen in the future,” he told Lu Han. “They will be your strongest anchor, but you have to have a lot courage to understand them, and a lot of love to let them understand you.”

He sat on the benches in front of the departing customs, and decided to try to call his parents yet again to let them know that he was coming home in time for the New Year.

His mother picked up on the fourth ring, and Lu Han bit down on his tongue, letting his mother’s voice wash over him for a while, not wanting her to hang up. He gathered as much courage as he could, then managed a small _Hi, mama_.

There’s a sharp exhale, then, “I told you not to call anymore.”

The line went flat.

 

Lu Han sat on the benches for a long time, lacking any strength to move, even as his name is called through the intercom. His flight was boarding, but what business would he have flying back to Beijing? His mother had made it clear, many times, that he wasn’t wanted home.

Blinking back the sharp spike of tears that was forcing its way out from under his eyelids, he swallowed his pain and dialled Minseok’s number.

 

Minseok had invited Lu Han over to his house to spend the New Year with his family instead, for which Lu Han was eternally grateful. Even though Minseok’s family wasn’t his own, they were warm and welcoming, and for an evening Lu Han felt the love and comfort of being in a family, something he hadn’t realised he’d missed so much.

It’s then that he realised that it would be a lot better if he were to surround himself with people who he knew loved him for exactly who he was.

 

“Oh,” was Yixing’s response. He hadn’t looked up from his strings, his brow furrowed as he plucked them, trying to tune it just right. “Help me grab the tuner, will you? I still can’t do this by ear.”

Lu Han stared at him, incredulous. “I’ve just bared my soul to you and all you can say is ‘grab the tuner’?”

Yixing cocked his head to the side, his face blank as always. “You’re gay, so what?”

Lu Han wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he stood up to grab Yixing’s tuner off the desk instead. They sit in silence for a while, until Yixing’s deemed that his guitar’s perfectly tuned.

“I’ll always be here for you, Lu Han,” Yixing said then, nudging him in the side. “Gay or straight or whatever. We’re friends.”

 

He was in the kitchen with Sehun making milkshakes when he decided that it was a good time to tell. Apparently, it wasn’t, though, since Sehun didn’t stop pouring the milk into the blender that it overflowed.

“I never would’ve guessed,” Sehun said as he pressed paper towels onto the mess. “Hyung, you’re always so good with girls.”

“I’m good at being their friend,” Lu Han corrected. “We are attracted to the same gender, after all. We have that in common.”

Sehun looked up from the mess. “That makes sense too,” he said softly. He gathered the sodden towels and dumped them, then pulled Lu Han into a hug.

“I don’t know if it was a huge deal for you to tell me, but I’m glad you did.” His voice is muffled by Lu Han’s hair, but Lu Han heard him loud and clear anyway.

It’s then that Lu Han realised how much the younger boy had grown. From being shorter than Lu Han, he could now rest his nose on the top of Lu Han’s head.

“Stop growing, Sehun-ah,” Lu Han teased, tip-toeing to ruffle his hair.

 

It took him a few months to come out to everyone, but soon everyone in the apartment was well aware that Lu Han was as bent as a candy cane, and, interestingly, okay with that facet of his self.

“Hyung,” Jongin ambushed him during practice. “You’re single now, aren’t you?”

“Yes?” Lu Han replied cautiously. He didn’t like where Jongin was going with this.

Jongin seemed to brighten up at the affirmative. “Moonkyu and I know this hyung from school. He’s really cool. And gay.” He scratched his head. “Or at least, there were rumours… And there was this other guy that he was always with…” He shrugged. “Anyway, they had a fight, and we’re gonna meet him for dinner next week. You should come.”

Lu Han folded his arms and snorted. “Kim Jongin,” he began. “Are you trying to set me up with someone?”

Jongin looked confused. “Yes, I am? Why? Don’t you want someone? A boyfriend?”

“Jongin-ah, we’re trainees.”

Jongin still looked confused. “And?”

“Do you really think I should date? Me, a guy, dating another guy? Here? In Seoul? With me potentially debuting in the future?”

When the reality of the situation finally sank in, Jongin looked crestfallen. “Oh,” he said sadly. “I didn’t realise… I thought…”

Luhan draped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “It’s okay, Jongin-ah, I really do appreciate your effort.”

 

When S.M. announced that they were debuting the new boyband, dubbed M1 and M2, all the trainees underwent series of auditions and tests to see who were most suited to be in the lineup. Lu Han was one of them, so was a new kid called Zitao who was fresh off the boat from Qingdao. He didn’t intend to take Zitao under his wing, but he’d walked in a couple of kids roughing Zitao up in a bathroom and couldn’t just stand by and watch or walk away.

“I don’t see how doing this to him would make you any more talented to make the lineup,” Lu Han said coolly as they sprayed Zitao with water, yelling vulgarities and insults.

“Fuck off, China boy,” one of them said, waving the hose threateningly, as though it were a weapon.

“Just stating the obvious,” Lu Han replied, raising his hands in defence. “Now why don’t you leave him alone before I run off and tell Hyunkyun hyung exactly what you shits have been up to.”

“Let’s just go,” another kid was already packing up, grabbing her coat and jacket from the sink.

“You’re going to fuck this up,” the third kid slammed his shoulder into Lu Han, but he gritted his teeth and didn’t retaliate. “Come on, let’s go.”

The first kid threw the hose onto the floor, then stalked off, but not before sending one last glare at Lu Han’s direction. Lu Han paid no mind, reaching out to help Zitao instead.

Zitao was crying, his eyes puffy. “I– I–” he stammered, out of the cold and fear. Lu Han helped him out of his wet jacket, then took off his own to keep the boy warm.

“Thank you,” he said in shaky Korean.

“You’re welcome,” Lu Han replied in Mandarin. Zitao perked up immediately at the sound of his native tongue.

“You’re Chinese,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “And you scared those kids away.”

Lu Han couldn’t help but chuckle. “Weren’t you listening to them? They called me China boy.”

“Yes, but. You don’t look Chinese,” Zitao said.

“Well, I am.” Lu Han guided him out of the bathroom. “Let’s get you to a better place, okay?”

Zitao hardly ever left his side after that, but Lu Han found that he didn’t really mind. Neither did the rest of the boys in the lineup, most of them who had moved into the apartment, replacing those who didn’t make the cut. Together with Sehun and Jongin, Zitao was one of the youngest, which meant that he was subject to much doting by the rest of the boys.

It was definitely a better place.

 

Lu Han had expected Baekhyun and Jongdae to be shy and reserved as Zitao had been during his first few weeks, but to everyone’s surprise, they were rather boisterous and loud, at times almost obnoxious. Jongdae, though, had proven to be very grounded and suprisingly caring, if a little nosy at times.

“I heard you’re gay,” Jongdae said as a greeting, sliding into the seat next to Lu Han that was previously occupied by Minseok. “What’s it like?”

Lu Han thought that was a little too direct, but brushed it off with a casual “What do you mean?”

Jongdae took a sip from his drink. “I think I’m gay, but I don't know. I think girls are great, but,” he paused, and Lu Han doesn’t miss the way his eyes flit to the other end of the table. “Guys are great too.”

“You’re curious,” Lu Han pointed out.

“Yeah, that I most definitely am,” Jongdae agreed. It’s then that the meaning Lu Han had hinted sunk in, and he raised his hands in defence, a little flustered. “I’m not saying I want to sleep with you or anything. You’re great, hyung, but just not my type, you know what I mean?”

Lu Han laughed it off. “I was just teasing, Jongdae, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh good,” Jongdae let out a sigh that was clearly exaggerated, and Lu Han felt comfortable around him already. “I’d be really flattered, but really burdened if you weren’t.”

“I wouldn’t offer myself to just any curious soul, you know,” Lu Han pointed out. “I have standards too.”

Jongdae didn’t take offence to that, letting out a laugh instead. “We should compare standards. People like us should stick together, you know? It’s a scary world out there.”

Lu Han hummed in agreement. He wondered what Jongdae had gone through because of his _curiousity_ , but didn’t ask. They sip their drinks in silence for some time, then,

“How about we go people watching, you and me? In Myeongdong. There’s tons of people there, so we can suss out each other’s standards, stick together, discuss dudes and whatever other gay stuff we stereotypically should.”

Jongdae’s eyes brightened up at the suggestion. “That’s a date, then.”

 

The date doesn't happen until many months later, since both Lu Han and Jongdae were roped into endless rounds of practices and rehearsals for their special stage in the end of the year _gayo_ festival. They settle for runs between S.M. and their apartment grabbing coffee and food for everyone instead, and Lu Han found himself growing fond of the younger boy.

“You're growing thin,” he poked Jongdae’s cheek for added emphasis. “Your cheekbones are popping out.”

There are deep frown lines in Jongdae’s forehead. “They put me on a diet. Said it’ll be good for my image.”

“You still look like you’re losing too much weight,” Lu Han said, stabbing pieces of tater tots with his cocktail stick and dropping them into Jongdae’s cup. “It’s not healthy. Eat more.”

Jongdae stared down at his cup, then back up at Lu Han. That’s when Lu Han saw a scared, lost boy hiding behind the confident, self-assured shell Jongdae had carved out for himself. He’s immediately reminded of how he, too, had lost himself in the attempt to become so much _more_.

He ruffled Jongdae’s hair, then dropped a piece of chicken into Jongdae’s cup. “You’ll be fine, Jongdae. More than fine. You’ll be great. Now eat.”

Jongdae did, chewing the chicken with a smile on his lips, the frown lines smoothened out. “Thanks, hyung.”

 

They finally find time to go to Myeongdong shortly after the new year. It’s only when they exit the train station did they realise that it was a bad idea. It was freezing, with snow was falling in clumps and everyone’s noses buried in scarves and masks, making it difficult to see their faces.

Jongdae pulled down his own scarf, nudging himself against Lu Han’s side to share a little bit of warmth. “It’s too cold,” he complained.

“Tell me about it,” Lu Han muttered. “I can’t see anyone. They’re all bundled up.”

“Maybe we should go to a café,” Jongdae suggested. “Get warm and see people whose noses aren’t covered with stuff.”

They rushed into the first Dunkin Donuts they see, only to meet with full tables and excited chatter. It was incredibly crowded, but Jongdae insisted on staying, hanging around the stairs waiting for someone to leave. They finally manage to get a table a few minutes later, then dump their coats onto the chairs and head back downstairs to order drinks.

“I think I have a crush on Yifan hyung,” Jongdae blurted out suddenly, biting down on his bottom lip. “I know I shouldn’t. We’re going to debut and I have a stupid crush, but I can’t stop thinking about him, hyung.”

It’s a familiar feeling, just baring your soul for the first time to a listening ear, and Lu Han can’t help but feel so proud and sympathetic towards Jongdae, even if he doesn’t quite understand what Jongdae would see in Yifan, save for maybe his giant dick.

“Why Yifan?” He asked, too curious to leave it alone.

Jongdae’s face lit up at the question, and that’s when Lu Han realised just how serious he was about his little crush. “He looks cold and scary, especially since they’re trying to get Kris to be that way, but he’s really caring and really cute,” he paused, chuckling to himself. “Really, unexpectedly endearing. Really handsome too.”

“I can’t believe you’re calling Yifan _cute_. Of all the adjectives in the world.”

“Don’t forget endearing and handsome,” Jongdae grinned.

“Yifan,” Lu Han repeated. “It would make more sense to crush on Sehun.”

“We all have different tastes, hyung,” Jongdae sing-songed, taking absolutely no offence. Lu Han hummed in agreement, enjoying Jongdae’s company more and more.

The afternoon passed incredibly well after that. Lu Han pointed out those who he thought were cute (a little shorter than him, with fluffy hair and deep double eyelids), and Jongdae singling out those who he were attracted to (girls with big eyes and long, wavy hair, tall guys with blonde hair and sharp features). They concluded that Jongdae was, at the very least, bicurious. It was fun, spending the day in the company of someone who was, more or less, just like him, that he felt almost sorry that his mug of tea was empty and it was time for them to go home.

“Today was really fun,” Jongdae said, nudging his shoulder against Lu Han’s in the crowded train back to their apartment.

The warmth from the touch filled Lu Han right down to the little cracks in his bones. For once, he didn’t feel so empty inside.

**III**

In many ways, Lu Han doesn’t feel any different after their debut. He is still Lu Han, though for some reason S.M. had decided to rid of the space in between his surname and his given name, crediting him mononymously as Luhan. The loss of the space didn’t feel like much at first, but his growing awareness of the cameras around them brought their newfound celebrity status into perspective.

He could no longer be Lu Han, the Beijing boy who came to Seoul to find himself; he was now Luhan, lead singer and visual of S.M. Entertainment’s newest boyband EXO, a brave Chinese boy who came to Seoul to be a celebrity. Everything he did in public could no longer be selfish, for himself. There were other, bigger things that he had to consider: his image, EXO’s image, S.M.’s image. He was no longer _just_ Lu Han, he was an image.

That alone kept him up at night, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, as though the darkness could give him answers or at least some semblance of guidance. Being back in Beijing didn’t help either – S.M. had mailed his parents a pair of tickets to their debut showcase, but their seats remained empty throughout the show. It was expected, but it didn’t hurt any less.

Minseok is the first to notice how Lu Han’s shoulders were a little drooped during their after party, and that he didn’t return Jongdae’s and Baekhyun’s jokes about their debut.

“I’m sorry,” he says as a greeting, leaning onto Lu Han’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be,” Lu Han replies, putting on the most sincere smile he can manage.

“I’m sorry for your parents,” Minseok corrects, smiling back. “That they didn’t get to see the amazing idol you’ve become.”

Lu Han lets out a little chuckle at that. Trust Minseok to say the darnest things to make him feel better. Not that he felt any less worse, but considering that perspective did make him feel very proud of himself, and of who he has become, although,

“I’m not sure if being an ‘amazing idol’ is a good thing, though,” he sighs into his glass. “I still feel like I’ve well and truly lost a part of myself.”

“The space between the Lu and the Han?” Minseok teases, echoing the worries he’d confided to him a couple of weeks back.

“Exactly that,” Lu Han agrees, playing along. “It’s symbolic, okay. The space.”

Minseok hums. “I can’t imagine. Most of us have stage names to hide behind, but you, you’re using your real name. I find that strange.”

“I wish they’d given me stage name too,” Lu Han admits. “Though to be honest, I still can’t get used to calling you Xiumin, or Jongdae Chen, or Yixing Lay. It’s strange, like you’re all different people.”

“We’re the same,” Minseok assures him. “We’ll still be the same.”

 

The Beijing that he now resides in is a lot different from the Beijing he was familiar with. Granted, he spent most of his time in a different district – it’s a big city – but going to a familiar place as a different person results in a different experience. They’re shuttled around in vans with darkened windows, fans and cameras follow their every move; there’s no anonymity for them even though it’s a big city.

“You’re home,” Jongdae had told him when they’d left their plane at Beijing Capital International Airport. He was, technically. But at the same time, he wasn’t.

 

It’s hard to sleep at night in Beijing. Too many thoughts keep him up, swimming around in the empty spaces in his head. It gets too much sometimes, that he wakes up and heads to the kitchen for a glass of milk to help him sleep.

That’s when he finds Jongdae, curled up on the sofa with a mug in his hands, his eyes blank as he watches the muted television.

“Why are you awake?” He asks, settling down next to him.

Jongdae blinks, turning to face Lu Han as though he’d seen him for the first time in a long while. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mutters, then takes a sip from his mug.

“Me too,” Lu Han admits.

“But you’re home,” Jongdae says.

“I guess.”

There’s nothing but silence for a long time, punctuated by the occasional car driving past the road down below, then,

“I didn’t realise it would be this hard,” Jongdae’s voice is very soft. “Coming to China.” Lu Han doesn’t respond, giving him space and time to open up and continue. “It’s not just the language that’s difficult – and Mandarin is already hard enough on its own – but the culture, the people. A lot of things I know don’t work here.” There’s another pause. “Was it like that for you, hyung? When you first came to Seoul?”

Lu Han mulls the question in his head, and thinks, fuck it, he was honest with me, I’ll be honest with him. “My parents kicked me out of the house when I told them I was gay. At that time, leaving for another country was my best bet to just… keep living.” He takes a sip from his cup to ground himself. “I think for me culture shock was a lot less of a challenge than the sheer desire to start anew. Plus, I had my friends to help me.” He turns to smile at Jongdae, resting a hand on his knee. “Just like how you have us to help you.”

 

Lu Han knows that Jongdae has a love-hate relationship with being mistaken as Chinese instead of Korean. On one hand, it allows him to be more easily accepted by hosts, behind-the-scenes personnel, and even the general public in China, but on the other hand, it’s not what he really is. He doesn’t show it on set, but the frown between his eyebrows forms when they pile into the car on the way back to the dorms.

“You okay there?” Yifan asks when he notices that Jongdae’s practically scowling into his bowl of rice.

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, though his tone hints that he is anything but. “I’m just. A little sick of people saying I look Chinese.”

“It’s good!” Minseok pipes up. “It lets you assimilate faster into everything.”

“Right.” Jongdae punctuates the word with a vicious shove of rice into his mouth. It’s rather cute, Lu Han thinks, how he expresses how disgruntled he is.

That’s when he catches himself. It’s becoming more and more frequent, his passing thoughts of how _cute_ Jongdae is. At first, he’d dismissed it as how Jongdae was technically one of the maknaes in their subgroup, and therefore cute by default, but Zitao wasn’t as cute as Jongdae is, nor were they on similar levels of cute. Zitao was cute because he was their baby, but Jongdae was cute because…

Lu Han doesn’t want to think about it.

 

They’re having a rare day off and Lu Han finds himself insanely bored. He’d overslept and woken up to an empty dorm – he’d vaguely remembered Minseok saying something about going shopping with the boys and the K kids having some recording or other. When he finally harnesses enough strength to haul himself out of bed, he spends an hour or so trawling through the internet and reading things that fans would never imagine he’d read, then fixes himself a snack in the kitchen.

That’s when he realises that Yixing and Jongdae hadn’t gone shopping as he had previously thought. There’s bubbles of Jongdae-shaped laughter coming out from behind the door of their shared room, so he heads over to investigate.

The door’s ajar, and from the gap he can see Jongdae and Yixing still in their pajamas, heads bent over books laid out on their desk. Jongdae’s reading very earnestly – a Mandarin passage of sorts – with Yixing gently correcting his pronunciation along the way, praising Jongdae when he gets it right.

Jongdae’s smile when he’s showered with praise is priceless, his eyes crinkling in the corners with pride, and his mouth turned up and showing the slightest hint of his teeth, but the fact that Yixing’s the receiver of that smile has Lu Han unconsciously glowering. He doesn’t realise he’s gripping onto the door panel until his finger jams, and he pulls away with a pained gasp.

“Lu Han?” Yixing’s turned towards him, his eyes narrowed. Jongdae’s still bent over the books, his lips repeatedly forming a word, practicing so he could be just perfect. He doesn’t notice Yixing casting a glance at Jongdae, then back at Lu Han, before getting up and stepping out of the room.

“I thought I felt a rather disgruntled aura behind me,” Yixing says, his tone flat. “Thought it was a vindictive ghost. Turns out it’s just you.” He sounded almost disappointed.

“I’m not disgruntled, nor am I vindictive.” Lu Han tries to keep his voice just as flat.

“Auras don’t lie,” Yixing points out. “You’re still radiating all that bitterness.” His eyes narrow again as he pieces the puzzle together. Lu Han swallows and braces himself for the worst, already forming defences in his mind.

“You think you’re a better Mandarin tutor, don’t you?”

Oh how grateful he is for Zhang Yixing’s thought process. “Yes. Obviously. I have a more standardised pronunciation. At this rate, Jongdae will be speaking in dialect if you continue teaching him. You’d better hand him to me.”

Yixing is smirking, and that’s when Lu Han realises that he’d just fallen into a trap. “You like Jongdae.”

Keep calm, Lu Han, he tells himself, and stick to the story. “Don’t derail me. You’re a bad tutor. You’re too lenient, and your accent really is quite far from standardised Mandarin.”

“You’re jealous I’m his tutor,” Yixing continues, as though Lu Han hadn’t said a word.

“Of course I am,” he says, going along with his cover story. “I’m obviously the better tutor.”

There’s a chuckle from Yixing. “Whatever you say, Marilun Monroe.”

It really takes everything in Lu Han’s self-control from strangling the life out of Yixing. He settles instead with an armlock and a yell that has Jongdae turning around and joining them, tackling them both into a hug that sends all three of them stumbling out the corridor and into the living room.

They land in a heap on the living room floor, limbs entangled, skin flushed and laughter filling the air.

Maybe this isn’t so bad either, Lu Han thinks.

 

Packed schedules and shuffling between Seoul and China doesn’t leave Lu Han with much time, let alone energy, to mull over the minor _fondness_ he has for Jongdae. It’s only when he catches himself staring at Jongdae more than necessary in some interview or other does he remember that he is rather _fond_ of the other boy.

Jongdae’s grown so much in the barely two years Lu Han’s known him. His eyes light up when he understands the Mandarin spoken around him, and his confidence and ease on stage has become a lot more natural, unforced, that Lu Han finds himself sucked in every time Jongdae opens his mouth to sing.

There’s not much he can do about it though. They’re rising idols, bandmates, almost brothers due to the immense amount of time they spend around one another, and Lu Han finds it almost too easy to simply put his _fondness_ aside and concentrate instead on performing.

 

Jongdae pulls him aside when they’re done with a round of rehearsals, shoving his coat and scarf into his hands and dragging him out of the studio.

“I have the perfect birthday present for Yifan hyung,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I need you to help me pick it out.”

“I’m sure whatever you pick out will be great,” Lu Han says, slightly thankful that his words are muffled a little by his scarf, because they sound a little bitter to his own ears. “Why would you need me?”

“Two heads are better than one!” Jongdae chirps up, not noticing the bitterness at all and sliding his arm in Lu Han’s to drag him into the van. “Hurry up, hyung!” He calls at Seunghwan hyung, who gives them both a long-suffering look and gets into the driver’s seat.

The mall is almost empty when they reach, for which Lu Han is immensely thankful. He’s dragged into numerous stores, staring at, of all the things in the world, underwear.

“Your idea of a perfect birthday present for Yifan is underwear?” Lu Han asks, picking up a pair of boxers Jongdae had shown him.

“Yeah! I figured, he’ll need something to house that monster between his legs, so what better than a good, reliable pair of underwear?”

Lu Han chokes at that, then bursts out into a fit of obnoxious laughter, forgetting, for a short moment, that he was an idol in a public space trying to be as invisible as possible.

Needless to say, they’re spotted by a pair of girls just moments later. They turn out to be managers of one of Lu Han’s fansites, and Lu Han, in a fit of euphoria, signs an autograph for them instead of running away as they usually would when spotted. The autograph ends up on weibo, together with their location, and they’re forced to cut their outing short.

It’s still a great day, nonetheless.

**IV**

They start the new year attending award shows and winning trophies that Lu Han somehow felt were more deserving in the hands of someone else. The fanbase they had built up thanks to how S.M. had marketed them was massive, and they found it almost difficult to believe the extent of their fame and influence.

However, all it takes would be a trip to the airport and being shoved in every direction for Lu Han to realise how much of a burden their fame was. Performing is exhilarating, and so is being a part of something bigger, but the fame and influence, together with the responsibility he has of his image, is something he can do without.

He’s staring at his face when Jongdae walks in, a towel wrapped around his waist, evidently ready for a shower.

“Hyung.” He yawns and stretches, not unaware of the towel slipping past his hips. “Your face is good. Leave it alone.”

Lu Han’s eyes flit down, taking in the v of Jongdae’s hipbones and the path of hair that leads down to something that is, unfortunately, obstructed by the towel. He frowns a little. If only it could slip just that tiny bit lower…

“Hyung. Stop staring,” Jongdae sounds a little flustered, but he doesn’t pull up his towel. He turns and enters the shower instead, then flings the towel above the divider.

Lu Han should probably leave, but the thought that Jongdae is naked behind the frosted glass keeps his feet firmly planted on the floor. The mirror starts fogging up, just like his head. It’s a bit hard to think straight, so he pulls out his toothbrush and toothpaste and starts brushing instead.

 

Yixing corners him when he leaves the bathroom, pulling him back by his collar and shoving him into the kitchen.

“You showered with Jongdae?” He asks, the corners of his lips turned up in perhaps one of the most blatant shows of emotion Lu Han had ever seen from him.

“No,” Lu Han says, his tone filled with what he felt was a little too much bite. “Sorry to burst your bubble,” he adds, even though the damage is done.

“Why not?” Yixing narrows his eyes. “Is this something about brotherhood and putting EXO first or some shit like that?”

“It is,” Lu Han turns to the fridge and opens it, just to have something to do. “I can’t just be selfish.”

“This world is run by selfish people,” Yixing says. “Without the selfish our planet will cease to spin on its axis.”

Lu Han takes a swig from the milk carton and gives Yixing a look. “You keep believing that, Mr Kind and Selfless,” he keeps the milk, pats Yixing on the shoulder and leaves the kitchen.

 

Saying that recording for their first album _XOXO_ was difficult was rather an understatement. It seemed as though everyone took turns hitting some kind of vocal slump, rappers included. There was a lot of tension in and out of the recording studio, as cold shoulders were given and fingers were pointed behind backs.

“I can’t sing with that shit messing up his lines,” Kyungsoo grumbles under his breath, glaring daggers at Baekhyun through the glass. It’s Baekhyun’s turn to hit the slump, and every note he sings seems to be _wrong_. They’ve been stuck in the studio since the evening, and it was almost 2 in the morning. Jongdae is sleeping, his head lolling on Lu Han’s shoulder as he waits for his turn to do his adlibs, and Lu Han didn’t have the heart to move, lest he wakes him up.

He settles for rubbing Kyungsoo’s thigh to calm him down. He’s annoyed at Baekhyun as well, since he’s been in the booth for most of the time they’ve been stuck inside, trying to hit notes that just didn’t seem to be in his sight.

“Baekhyun-ah,” their music director speaks into the intercom. “Maybe you should take a break. Take a nap, do your lines later.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes and drops his head, looking completely defeated and disappointed with himself, then raises it again. “Can’t I try just one last time? Please?”

“For the love of God, no,” Kyungsoo mutters, exasperated.

The director sighs. “Fine. Just the first verse. If you still sound off, you’re out for the night.”

“Yes sir,” Baekhyun says, pulling himself straight.

He doesn’t hit the notes, and slumps onto the couch next to Jongdae, not noticing the glare Kyungsoo’s tossed at him as he passes Baekhyun to step into the booth.

“He looks comfortable,” Baekhyun comments. Lu Han knows it’s probably just an observation, not an informed statement, but his face heats up a little anyway.

“He was tired waiting for you to stop being a stubborn asshole,” he replies.

Baekhyun lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just. I’m supposed to be doing well, but I’m not?” The sigh he lets out this time is infuriated, probably at himself. He leans back and covers his face with his hands.

The weight on Lu Han’s shoulder shifts. Jongdae’s sitting up and rubbing his eyes. _How adorable_ , his brain supplies. _Now’s not the time_ , he reminds it.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Baekhyun-ah,” Jongdae says, his voice a little slurred and sleepy. “Drink some water, take a nap. You’ll be fine.”

Somehow that ticks Baekhyun off. “Easy for you to say,” his voice gets louder with every word. “You have perfect pitch, perfect voice, perfect everything. The only problem you have is your Mandarin pronunciation, but other than that, you’re just absolutely fucking perfect. Well, congratulations to you.”

“Baekhyun–” Lu Han cuts in. If he was annoyed by his stubbornness before, he’s pissed off by his nonsense now. And it had nothing to do with his _fondness_ for Jongdae.

Baekhyun turns to him, his eyes blazing. He opens his mouth, and Lu Han can tell that he’s about to launch himself into another tirade, this time targeted at him. Lu Han holds his gaze, daring him to speak, but then Baekhyun shakes his head, grabs his coat, and leaves the studio.

“He doesn’t mean it,” Lu Han tells Jongdae, resting a hand on his arm. Jongdae looks worn out, his shoulders slumped and a deep crease forming between his eyebrows.

“I know. It’s true though. I shouldn’t have said that.” His voice is very soft. He grabs his coat as well. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Wait–” Lu Han grabs his wrist on instinct. “I’ll go with you.”

“Come back in thirty,” the director reminds them. Lu Han gives him a wave and follows Jongdae out of the studio.

 

It’s freezing and pitch black outside, and Lu Han barely has three layers on. The ground’s covered with a thick layer of snow, and tiny specks are still falling lazily from the sky. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and sticks a little closer to Jongdae as they walk around the compound. Baekhyun’s nowhere in sight, and Lu Han’s glad. They’ve wound each other up far too much recently.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” Jongdae asks, grabbing a handful of snow off a dustbin and tossing it onto the ground.

“We will. There’s twelve of us, so we’re bound to fight. A lot,” Lu Han says.

“I don’t want to fight. We’re a team. We should be getting along, supporting each other, not trying to tear each other apart.”

That’s when Lu Han really looks at Jongdae for the first time in a while. There’s bags under his eyes, though his skin seems to be lacking it’s usual colour. He looks exhausted, the tension within EXO wearing him down emotionally, and Lu Han wants nothing more than to pull him into a hug. He holds back though, his fingers twitching in his pockets.

He searches for something to say, but nothing comes to mind. Even the humour and wit he relies on to make things a lot lighter doesn’t come to him.

Jongdae turns and keeps walking, and Lu Han falls into step behind him.

 

The tension escalates into a fight one night, when Baekhyun’s temper hits its upper limit, and Chanyeol sets him off with a comment – _perhaps you weren’t even as good as you thought you were from the start_. It takes Yifan, Sehun, Jongin and Zitao to hold them back from each other, Yifan and Sehun practically tackling Chanyeol onto the floor and Zitao holding Baekhyun in what seems to be some kind of martial arts grip while Jongin holds his arms together.

“Fuck you all,” Baekhyun yells, shrugging Zitao and Jongin off him and stomping out of their apartment.

 

No one expects Yifan to be the one who breaks, but they wake up one morning to see his bed empty and his essentials missing from his desk.

“He asked for a sudden leave late last night. Said something about his mum. Then he just left.” Hyunkyun frowns. “The president was okay with it, though.”

“Does the president know about our fight?” Joonmyun asks, still visibly shaken by the Yifan’s leave. They all were, since they’d seen their seniors simply up and leave with little notice. What if Yifan never comes back?

“He’ll come back,” Hyunkyun reassures them. “It’s been hard on all of you, so the president’s asked to stop all your recordings and practices for the next three days or so. So just… relax. Go home if you want, go out with your other friends, stay here and sleep, whatever.”

 

Minseok drags him out for coffee right after that, heading to their usual joint in one of the back alleys near Apgujeong. It’s as empty as they’d hoped, and they grab the corner booth where they’d have the least chance of being spotted.

“Who’d thought Yifan would be the one who’d crack,” Minseok starts, adding copious amounts of sugar to his coffee – a habit he has when he was jittery.

“He’s always been a rather sensitive,” Lu Han muses. “Though I’m pretty surprised too. I thought Zitao would crack first, or at least cry. I guess that kid’s a lot stronger than he lets on.”

“He’s been talking to Sehun, so they have each other.” Minseok makes to rip open his fourth packet of sugar, but Lu Han snatches it away in time. He pouts. “I didn’t put that much.”

“Three is the absolute maximum,” Lu Han reminds him. “Also, I didn’t know that. But it makes sense, since Sehun would usually cry to me, but since they’re crying to each other…” He trails off and takes a sip of his coffee. “I feel like I’ve been discarded.”

“Don’t worry, you still have Jongdae,” Minseok teases, and Lu Han groans inside. It can’t be that Minseok’s figured it out as well, can’t it?

“Jongdae can take care of himself. He’s a big kid,” Lu Han says.

“Yifan’s a big kid and yet look at what he’s done.” He takes a sip from his cup and gags. Too much sugar, probably. “I wonder how Zitao’s holding up.”

“You said he has Sehun,” Lu Han says. It’s then that he’s reminded of another person who might be just as badly affected, not just because he was close to Yifan, but because Yifan was special to him.

Jongdae.

The realisation has him sitting up and grabbing his phone. Minseok tilts his head to the side, confused, but Lu Han pays him no mind. He should be in the dorms with Jongdae, listening to him or distracting him or just being there for him, and yet… what business would he have sticking so close to Jongdae like that?

He’s torn, but he makes a swift decision. “We should go back to the dorms,” he says suddenly.

Minseok seems to be reading him well, because he’s already gathering his things and collecting the rubbish they’ve left behind, tossing it onto a tray. “Let’s go, then,” he says, getting up and placing the tray at the collection point.

 

It’s four in the afternoon when Lu Han and Minseok get back from the cafe. Only Jongin and Yixing are in, curled up on the sofa with consoles in their hands, playing Mario Kart.

“Everyone went home except for Jongdae hyung. Sehun and Tao are out,” Jongin says, his eyes still transfixed onto the television screen. “They said they’ll be back before nightfall.”

“Jongdae’s sleeping,” Yixing adds, nodding at Lu Han. Minseok gives them both a strange look, but neither of them respond. He follows along when Lu Han goes into Jongdae and Yixing’s room.

Jongdae’s curled up under his blankets so only the top of his head peeks out. It’s really adorable, but also a little heartbreaking, since Lu Han knows that Jongdae only sleeps like this when he’s really upset.

He wants to sit by Jongdae’s bed and run his fingers through Jongdae’s hair till he wakes up, but he knows that he shouldn’t.

Instead he turns around and follows Minseok out of the room.

 

Minseok, Jongin and Sehun go home the next morning, leaving the dorm a lot emptier than Lu Han had ever remembered it to be. Jongdae and Zitao are up early, heading off to the gym with sleepy eyes and powdered slushies, and Lu Han finds himself in the kitchen helping Yixing slice vegetables for lunch.

“If you like Jongdae so much you should be there for him a lot more,” Yixing starts without preamble.

Lu Han almost cuts his finger hearing his words. “I shouldn’t. I’m not– We’re not–” it’s hard to search for words to quantify him and Jongdae, so he settles for: “We’re not anything.”

“You don’t need to be anything to care about him. You’re his friend, his bandmate. His hyung. That’s enough,” Yixing says while chopping up cabbage, not missing a beat.

Yixing’s right.

 

When Jongdae and Zitao return from the gym, they shower, eat lunch, then Lu Han asks Jongdae to have coffee with him.

“We can people watch, take our mind off other people,” he says.

“That would be great.” The light in Jongdae’s eyes brighten a little, and Lu Han feels happy that it was _him_ who had caused it.

 

Coffee with Jongdae becomes a regular thing in the days and weeks that come. The president and their managers have decided to pause on their album recordings for the moment, focusing instead on other, non-musical aspects of the idol persona. Acting and emceeing lessons and language classes fill the time that was previously occupied by vocal training and dance practice, but surprisingly, no one complains.

Jongdae starts his mornings at the gym with Zitao and Jongin, then they all have an early lunch before heading off to lessons and classes. If their schedule permits, Jongdae and Lu Han would usually find themselves at Lu Han’s usual joint in Apgujeong, sipping hot coffee in the corner booth and trading gossip about the other members, their seniors and even the trainees. But as the days pass Lu Han’s sees the glint in Jongdae’s eyes dim. It twists at his insides and makes him feel a little powerless.

It’s snowing outside as usual, and Jongdae’s very quiet, resting his head on his arms and staring out at the snow that’s starting to pile up on the windowsill. Lu Han’s not sure what to say, as always, so he waits for Jongdae to start instead, sipping slowly on his coffee so it doesn’t drain as quickly.

“When do you think Yifan hyung will come back?” Jongdae asks, his voice so soft Lu Han barely catches it.

It’s only when Jongdae’s question sinks in does the ache begin. It starts off deep in his stomach, then grips his heart like a vice and makes it hard for him to feel his fingers. He’s jealous. He doesn’t realise how much he’s grown to care for Jongdae, but he knows well and sure that this _fondness_ he had for the other boy has outgrown its label.

Lu Han doesn’t want to think of a suitable title for this feeling he has for Jongdae.

 

The phone rings endlessly, the chorus of _MAMA_ repeating itself once, then another time, as Lu Han waits for Yifan to pick up his call. He switches hands, passing his phone from his left to his right, then gets up and paces around his room. He’s close to flinging his phone against a wall when Yifan finally picks up.

“Hello?” Yifan greets in English, and Lu Han wants nothing more than to strangle him.

“Hello yourself, asshole,” Lu Han greets in Korean, then switches to Mandarin. “When the fuck are you coming back?”

“Lu Han?” Yifan sounds confused, but Lu Han is past patience. Seeing Jongdae look so utterly hopeless about Yifan’s disappearance sparked something in him. It wasn’t really characteristic of him to be so antagonistically forward, but here he is anyway, yelling into his handphone to a jerk at the other side of the globe.

“You fucking coward,” There’s a sound at the other end of the line, but Lu Han isn’t going to give Yifan the luxury of having any say at all. “Did you think you’re the only one hurt? Running away from everything in the middle of the night when no one can stop you, then going to a place so far none of us can reach you to lick your wounds. What are you, a child?”

“Lu Han, I–” Yifan begins, but Lu Han cut him right through.

“You’re part of a band, heck you’re our fucking leader. Did you really think upping and running would solve anything? I didn’t call to hear your stupid excuses. I called to tell you that you better get your ass back. ”

“Lu Han, can you just fucking listen to me for just one–”

He lowers his phone, staring at the screen for a second before pressing the big red ‘End Call’ button.

It felt so fucking satisfying.

 

Yifan comes back with no less than an obnoxious display. Lu Han thought it was absolutely horrid, how a coward had run away only to come back celebrated. He’s well aware that it’s all an act, of course, set up by S.M., as though desperate to prove that they could reel back their runaway artists, no problem. Hyunkyun hyung greets him at Incheon like a proud father welcoming his son home from a long crusade, and the media and their fans lap it up eagerly, cameras flashing with every step they took.

The welcome is a lot less fancy in the apartment. Yifan curls into himself a little when he slips through the door, trying to be as small as possible when he passes by the group in the living room. Unfortunately for him, Joonmyun isn’t buying it.

“How nice of you to finally come home, Yifan.” His voice reeks of bitterness and animosity that it sends chills down Lu Han’s spine. He stands up and brushes his knees, drawing himself up to his full height. It’s not much – he knows he barely comes up to Yifan’s chin, but the glare he gives Yifan is one that Lu Han has never seen on any of them before; not even Kyungsoo and Baekhyun came close.

“Hyung, leave him alone. He just came back.” Chanyeol, ever the idiot to throw himself into the crossfire, rests a hand on Joonmyun’s elbow. He’s shaken off.

“Tell me, what exactly brought you back here?” Joonmyun continues, and something tells Lu Han that it would be very difficult to get him to stop once he gets started. “It can’t be the amazing brotherhood that we all share, can’t it? After all, you were the one who walked away when–”

“That’s enough,” Minseok cuts in, his voice firm, stepping right in between Joonmyun and Yifan. Joonmyun opens his mouth to continue, but Minseok grabs Yifan by the arm and pulls him into his bedroom, closing the door behind them.

“Fucking Minseok,” Joonmyun curses under his breath. He’s almost red with rage, his cheeks tinted pink and his hands balled into fists. Chanyeol rests a hand on his shoulder, not sure what to do, but Joonmyun shakes him off and heads into his room.

It’s Jongdae who jumps to his feet. “I’ll talk to him,” he offers. He looks tired, even more than ever, and Lu Han’s heart tightens a little in his chest.

 

This time, S.M. doesn’t give them any more time to resolve their differences. Parts of their music video for their new title track _Wolf_ had already been filmed during Yifan’s absence, but it was minute compared to the recordings and filmings they had left to do with Yifan.

Lu Han’s the lead for _Wolf_ , and in a brilliant show of creativity, their director has him and Yifan acting out a silent scene about brotherhood and secret missions. At first Lu Han had thought that his Korean wasn’t good enough to understand what the director had been rambling, but unfortunately for him, Minseok had placed a hand on his shoulder and reassured him that no, that was, indeed, exactly what he had heard.

Needless to say, he spent the first few takes snarling at Yifan.

“You are brothers from the same dying pack!” The director reminds him from his chair. “Less snarling, more warmth! Your fans would want to see some brotherly action!”

It’s really hard for Lu Han to stop himself from making a disgusted face, so he settles for a scowl instead, narrowing his eyes as Yifan rests a hand on Lu Han’s shoulder. He’s probably imagining things, but Yifan’s hold on him is rather painful, so he shrugs him off with more force than would probably be necessary.

“Cut!” The director screeches. “Luhan! Why is it that you could film stunts in one, two takes, and yet this shit is taking the whole afternoon? You’re not supposed to shrug him off. Focus!”

They do it again, walking towards each other from opposite ends of a corridor. It’s then that Lu Han realises how bloody tall Yifan is, that he has to tilt his head up just to meet his eyes.

They’re filled with remorse and regret.

 

Jongdae slides into his room a few days after filming ends, closing the door quietly behind him. Lu Han doesn’t notice until he hears a soft sob behind him, and turns to find Jongdae sitting on his bed, his eyes blank and tears running down his cheeks.

He reacts on instinct then, pulling himself away from his laptop to sit next to Jongdae, then pulling the other boy into a hug. That’s when Jongdae cries openly, his sobs loud and unrestrained, and Lu Han lets himself run his fingers through Jongdae’s hair and murmur things into his ear. He wants so badly to make everything right, even before he’s known what had happened.

When Jongdae calms down enough to speak, he tells Lu Han that he was just rejected by Yifan. Any and all thoughts of forgiving the too-tall asshole dissolve immediately.

“I was stupid,” Jongdae says, still dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. “I thought that maybe, he’d be, you know, just like us.” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “I thought facial routine and the ugly hats was a sign.”

“He’s straight?” Lu Han can’t help but ask, though it comes out with a little more animosity than he’d intended.

“Yeah,” Jongdae sighs. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “‘Tis a sad day for all men vying for a taste of the great Wu ‘D’ Fan,” he jokes in an attempt to lighten to mood.

“I could chop it off for you.” It slips out of Lu Han’s mouth without much thought, but he’s too far gone to backtrack his words or think of something else, so he continues, “We could deep fry it, keep it in a box and hang it from the ceiling. Just like eunuchs in ancient China.”

Jongdae actually laughs at that, his face breaking into a grin that eases away most of the sadness. “I’ve heard about that. But unfortunately, we’re in modern-day South Korea, so that would be illegal.” He pauses, his lips still turned up in a kittenish smirk. “But I’m sure it’s no problem in North Korea…”

“The DMZ is only about fifty or so kilometers away from here. If we leave now we could get there in about forty-five minutes,” Lu Han continues, grinning as well.

“Make it an hour,” Jongdae adds, his smile not fading at all. “We’ll have to factor in the traffic jams.”

“You get the chloroform and the scissors, I’ll get the car keys.”

“Deal,” they shake on it, and Lu Han wants nothing more than to have Jongdae smile like this forever.

 

With the rush of rehearsals and filming come the inevitable endless rounds of promotions, but somehow the fact that they’re promoting as twelve in Seoul instead of six each in Beijing and Seoul alleviates the fatigue Lu Han feels at the end of the day. There’s always someone to fool around with in a group of twelve, not including the squadron of managers, stylists and make-up artists that form their entourage.

Every day feels like an adventure of sorts, since there’s always someone who’s doing something stupid or other, keeping everyone entertained. Usually it’s Baekhyun and Jongdae, or Jongdae and Chanyeol. For some reason Chanyeol and Baekhyun could never really make up after the big fight that had Yifan running. Chanyeol did seem to be making efforts, but Baekhyun held too firmly onto his grudges that it was difficult for them to simply go back to how they were before. Jongdae ends up being the mediator between them, though Lu Han can tell that it isn’t something he enjoys doing.

“Why can’t Baekhyun just stop being an annoying fuck and just _talk_ to Chanyeol?” He rants at Lu Han one evening. They’d just downed a dozen or so bottles of soju, having just won yet another award on a music show, explaining Jongdae’s rather loose tongue.

Lu Han’s usually noisy when he’s tipsy, but he’s grabbing very firmly onto himself and not letting the alcohol have its way. However, he can’t seem to stop his wandering hands – he’s a lot more touchy than usual when inebriated – that appear to be content rubbing on Jongdae’s thigh.

“I mean, Chanyeol’s a thick-skinned fuck. He can take it,” Jongdae continues, leaning against Lu Han’s shoulder. “People should learn a thing or two from me, you know? Just grit your teeth and say what you wanna say.”

“Are you talking about Yifan?” Lu Han’s guard is down, and the question gets out before he realises what he’s saying.

“Yeah,” Jongdae doesn’t seem to think it’s a weird question. “Really, nothing can be as bad as having a secret crush on someone who’s supposed to be like a brother to you. A bandmate.”

There’s a chuckle from across the table. Trust Yixing to be listening during the times he shouldn’t be at all. “Lu Han would know all about secret crushes,” he comments, raising his glass of Sprite at Lu Han and taking a sip.

“Of course he would. I told him I liked Yifan hyung,” Jongdae says without missing a beat.

That’s when Yixing’s expression softens into something that looks suspiciously like pity. “Oh, Lu Han,” he says softly. “Oh you, poor, poor child.”

“If you say anything more you will die,” Lu Han hisses in Mandarin. Yixing laughs at the threat, but does a zipping motion with his fingers anyway.

 

Lu Han knows that his crush is getting the better of him when he finds himself a little more than distracted by Jongdae standing close to him in _Wolf_ ’s signature tree formation. Jongdae smells like peppermint – the mints he likes to suck on while they’re waiting for their turn to record – and for some reason Lu Han wants nothing more than to lean in and have a taste for himself.

He settles instead for patting Jongdae’s butt before he goes out to do his high note. It earns him a squeak that is amplified by the mic taped to Jongdae’s chin, which in turn breaks everyone’s concentration and shifts the focus onto Jongdae.

“Again!” The camera director barks, having no time for pointless excuses. They hustle back into the first tree formation, and from the corner of his eye, Lu Han can tell that Jongdae’s having trouble focusing on the dance.

He’s a bit worried when he sees Jongdae slipping up a few times during the recordings, and even more so when he cracks just a tiny bit in his last note. That earns him a pep talk from the managers, followed by Joonmyun, the latter which Lu Han discreetly listens to by pretending to read at the dining table while they talk with the door open in their room.

Jongdae looks deflated when he finally steps out of the room.

“Hey, Jongdae,” Lu Han greets as casually as he can. He expects, perhaps, for Jongdae to join him, to pull out a chair and share his problems with Lu Han. But that apparently seems to be akin to asking for the moon, because Jongdae freezes up at the sound of Lu Han’s voice, makes the same squeak he had made on stage earlier that day, and flees.

 

Minseok steers him to the balcony with a beer in each hand, then slides the glass door shut.

“You know he’d find out sooner or later,” he presses the cold can against Lu Han’s cheek, and he jumps at the sudden contact.

“I was being discreet. He was never supposed to find out,” Lu Han grumbles, rubbing his cold cheek. He opens the can of beer, then leans over the low wall to sigh at the road below. “I was going to bury this deep inside and forget I ever felt this way.”

“That’s not possible,” Minseok chugs back his own beer. “Jongdae likes you too.”

“No,” Lu Han says very firmly. “Jongdae likes Yifan. Jongdae probably still likes Yifan even though Yifan’s an asshole who’s turned him down by telling him that he’s ramrod straight.”

Minseok _mmm_ s at Lu Han’s statement. “And what makes you think that? Because to me he looks like he’s completely over that giant.”

“Well,” Lu Han begins indignantly, and then pauses when he realises that he really doesn’t know if Jongdae’s moved on or was still stuck at Yifan. Not that it would matter, his brain reminds him. You can’t be all lovey dovey with him. Bandmates, remember? Sworn brothers and all that.

“Well,” Lu Han says a little louder this time, because he just wants to drown his sorrows in his beer instead of being interrogated. “I just know, okay? I can tell these things. I’m the gay one here, not you.”

 

 

If there was any one thing Jongdae had regretted saying in his life, it was telling Lu Han hyung that he wasn’t Jongdae’s type. Jongdae may have felt very attracted to tall, awkward, blonde boys with gorgeous facial structure and eyebrows of a Greek god, but what he didn’t realise was that he could also be attracted to cheeky, not-so-tall, baby-faced Beijing boys as well. And maybe if he was being completely honest with himself, he’d say that he was more attracted to cheeky, not-so-tall, baby-faced Beijing boys than to awkward, tall, blonde boys.

This realisation hits him like a speeding ten ton truck on an empty highway during one of their _Wolf_ practice sessions. They’re in their infamous tree formation, Jongdae standing in front of Lu Han, and he’s suddenly hyperaware of Lu Han’s breath against his ear and the mild scent of Lu Han’s cologne in the air. He almost forgets to turn and grab Lu Han’s hand for the next pose.

But when he does, he realises that he’s looking at Lu Han, into his eyes that are filled with so much passion and charisma and focus – dedication that he pours out into their performance. Jongdae had always thought that Lu Han sometimes lacked focus and confidence on stage, but suddenly seeing him this way puts Jongdae’s perception of him into a new perspective.

His hyperawareness doesn’t seem to fade as the days go by, but only seems to get stronger. It’s easier to find Lu Han’s voice in the chaos of their waiting room or living room, easier to navigate through bodies to grab Lu Han’s wrist, easier to spot Lu Han among a sea of bobbing heads. In many ways, it’s terrifying, and Jongdae finds himself reacting on instinct when he finds himself surrounded by too much Lu Han, like a pat on the butt or a backhug, most of the times in the form of an uncharacteristic squeak.

“You better figure this shit out,” Baekhyun tells him lazily one night, after Jongdae had bared his naked heart to him.

“Dude, help me out here. What if I like him? I can’t just keep quiet about it.” Jongdae realises he’s almost begging, but really, Baekhyun’s the only one he can talk about this to. He’d talk to Lu Han too, but since Lu Han’s the subject in question…

“What do you want me to say?” Baekhyun puts down the magazine he’s reading to give Jongdae A Look. “We’re idols. We can’t just date our bandmates.”

“I don’t want to date Lu Han, I just want to…” Jongdae trails off, because he’s not sure what exactly he wants to do with Lu Han.

 

They get a bit of a breather after they’re done promoting _Wolf_ , and even though Jongdae knows it does not mean that they won’t ever perform _Wolf_ again, he’s glad that they’ll be moving onto a choreography that does not put him and Lu Han in each other’s personal space. They’re in different parts of the song for _Growl_ , for which Jongdae is both equally thankful and a little sad. He misses having Lu Han close, even if it did distract him a lot.

Fortunately for him, Lu Han’s eager for them to hang out after dance practices, grabbing coffee and street food. The weather’s getting warmer and warmer, which meant that they didn’t have scarves and layers of winter clothing to hide behind, so they’d have to be creative with avoiding fans.

“One of my friends told me about this hole-in-the-wall noodle place near the university,” Jongdae tells him once they’ve escaped the building and their bandmates. His heart’s beating double time in his chest, and he really doesn’t know how to calm it down. It was different with Yifan, but Jongdae supposes hearts do react differently to different people.

“Noodles?” Lu Han repeats. “What kind?”

“I don’t know, actually. He just told me noodles,” Jongdae turns to him. “You like noodles, don’t you?”

“Are you kidding?” Lu Han sounds excited, and Jongdae’s glad. “Noodles are great.”

 

 

The noodle place Jongdae has brought Lu Han to is tiny and completely empty, since it was a little past lunchtime. It’s run by a middle-aged couple who appear to have no clue who they are and pay them no mind, handing them menus before shuffling to the back of the restaurant to cook. Lu Han’s phone buzzes while Jongdae’s immersed in the menu, and he peels his eyes away from Jongdae’s face to glare at the screen.

It’s a text message from Minseok.

_So Sehun told me that Baekhyun told him that Jongdae was saying that he wanted to bring you to eat noodles. Noodles are romantic. Lu-dy and the Dae-ramp Go Go!_

What the fuck. He’s about to grab his phone and reply just that, but Jongdae looks up and asks him what he wants to order, and Lu Han presses on the lock key and switches off his phone instead.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” Lu Han says as sweetly as he can, then cringes at how sappy his voice sounds to his own ears. Jongdae’s grinning, and Lu Han thinks he probably should just bury himself in a hole to save whatever was left of his dignity.

“How about we get one beef and one seafood?” Jongdae pushes the menu to him. “I wanted to get the beef but the seafood looked so good.” He leans a little closer to the menu. “Could we get mandu too? I’m hungry.”

Bless Jongdae’s thought process, Lu Han thinks. Food first, everything else later. “Sure,” he says. “I’m hungry too. So how about mandu and chicken?”

“Chicken!” Jongdae exclaims, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of more food. It distracts Lu Han as usual, and he ends up ordering two sets of mandu and chicken instead of one each.

They barely struggle to finish all the food, though they do end up sitting in the tiny restaurant for far too long, chatting about banal things like Sehun’s height and if he will ever end up growing taller than Yifan. It’s only when Jongdae pulls out his phone to find about fifteen missed calls from their managers and bandmates do they realise that it’s long past the time for them to be back.

The walk back to the S.M. building ends far too quickly for Lu Han, and he doesn’t realise he’s scowling until he catches his reflection on the mirrors in the dance studio.

Well, there’s always next time.

**V**

_Next time_ doesn’t come until much, much later. _Growl_ turns out to be an instant hit – it’s catchiness was inescapable, and S.M.’s strategy to turn heads and grab the public’s attention with _Wolf_ , then wow them with a song as good as _Growl_ had worked like a charm. They find themselves swamped with endless fansignings, show filmings and schedules, flying back and forth between Seoul and China.

Lu Han learns to live for the spaces in between, catching Jongdae in a hug in the mornings or in the green room before recordings. There’s something between them, though Lu Han isn’t sure what exactly, and he and Jongdae find it okay to just _be_. Putting a label on something that doesn’t need it isn’t necessary, and after a while the other boys seem to understand that Jongdae and Lu Han are just that – Jongdae and Lu Han.

“I’ll crash with Minseok hyung tonight, so you just just have fun okay.” Yixing says this with no trace of emotion in his voice. He grabs a book and a blanket, then turns again to raise a suggestive eyebrow. “Enjoy,” he says, and this time, it’s dripping with indecency. He closes the door behind him before Lu Han can react.

The next time the door opens it’s Jongdae who steps through, fresh out of the shower and smelling like the shower gel they all share. In theory it probably shouldn’t smell any different from how everyone else smells, but this is _Jongdae_ , and Lu Han finds himself taking a step forward, then another.

It’s not their first kiss, but it sure is the first one they can take their time with. Jongdae tastes of toothpaste, and always, always kisses like they might never have another. They can slow down this time, though, so Lu Han breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to Jongdae’s instead.

“Yixing won’t be here tonight,” he whispers against Jongdae’s ear. It earns him a shudder and fingers gripping tightly onto his arms.

“Are you sure they won’t peek in?” Jongdae’s pulls away a little and Lu Han can see that his lips are a little red and his pupils are blown and dark. _I did this_ , he thinks, the thought sending blood rushing south. He leans over Jongdae to lock the door behind him, but loses his balance. They land on the floor instead.

“Stop being clumsy,” Jongdae says, cupping Lu Han’s face in his hands. He hoists himself up and slides onto Lu Han’s lap, then leans in to press their lips together.

They forget all about the door after that.

 

 

Jongdae supposes he should be a little embarrassed, or even angry, when he opens his eyes to see Yixing bent over them both with his phone in his hands.

“Ahh, can’t you wait?” He says, his throat hurts, and he clears it so his voice doesn’t sound too hoarse. He wriggles around a bit, tucking the blankets under him and around Lu Han, then settles to tuck his head under Lu Han’s chin. Lu Han squirms in his sleep, murmurs something or other, then flings an arm around Jongdae’s waist and pulls him closer.

“Gross,” Yixing says, but takes the photo anyway.

“Wait, one more,” Jongdae insists, looking up so his face is visible in the camera. He grins, holding up one of his hands in a peace sign, and Yixing snaps again with a sigh.

“You can send the second one to the K kids,” Jongdae says when Yixing shows him the pictures. “Now go away.”

Yixing sighs again, drawn out and hinting of a lifetime of suffering. “We have a schedule in two hours, don’t forget,” he says, closing the door behind him.

Jongdae couldn’t really give a damn about schedules or even the rest of the world. He closes his eyes and feels Lu Han’s fingers settle on his hip, and knows that this is exactly where he wants to be.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for werewolfic @ LJ for sncj-santa 2013! it was so fun to write because luhan is such a precious little fawn and i never expected to love him as much as i do now ^^ also the luhan/chen dynamics are just so squee yes i love this pairing i love all chen pairings
> 
> for reference:  
> [luchen tree formation](http://24.media.tumblr.com/ed5d0f295e2339a7309f5ce7ee090f32/tumblr_mwqtuuDXWQ1rsowhxo1_250.gif) ([+](https://24.media.tumblr.com/7949d0bd6a43ac02b1b52fa479150ca9/tumblr_n1ba3bTuYB1rspixio1_250.gif)) ([\+ waist pat](https://24.media.tumblr.com/7b664b1188ec2060ce763eb77dae1812/tumblr_n1ba3bTuYB1rspixio2_250.gif)) ([+](http://ww2.sinaimg.cn/mw1024/a8e635a1jw1eawh2ssgspj20xc0ll0yy.jpg)) ([+](http://31.media.tumblr.com/66ddb82f8bb569b24912f2461395b6df/tumblr_mwrc2liBFH1s722k2o1_1280.jpg))  
> [all aboard ss luchen](https://31.media.tumblr.com/dd9cf733d91e5ccb88a743590c6c9461/tumblr_myfl9myEyW1sln2hbo1_250.gif) ([+](https://24.media.tumblr.com/0e0d0401e6cc646ae778247e2a67bf53/tumblr_n20avsRG4P1shl3txo4_500.gif)) ([+](https://24.media.tumblr.com/a329007668c0965eb2b6576a071dc8de/tumblr_n0jip1wsrx1s7746do1_500.gif)) ([+](https://24.media.tumblr.com/1af83a0bdf473698a39109ae96509be5/tumblr_mwbwtxZi1l1s7746do5_250.gif)) ([+](http://24.media.tumblr.com/16dafe41d50e2b19b87462d8481bb75f/tumblr_msf2l6lJKv1sn1awlo1_1280.jpg))  
> [lady and the tramp](http://princekristof.tumblr.com/post/41422426654)
> 
> [shameless] if you liked this fic, do give me a kudos or leave a comment here or [here on livejournal](http://electrolyse.livejournal.com/5413.html)! [/shameless]


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